141: Chapter 141 Lucius's Defeat

"Your father lost very badly."

Draco looked up abruptly, his quill dragging a smear of ink across the parchment.

He stared at Allen, as if the last layer of his dignity had been ripped away in front of everyone, his voice tight: "You had better not say that in the Common Room."

Allen leaned against the window, a Potion reference book spread across his lap, his eyelids half-lowered. "I am saying it in the dorm."

"Don't say it there either." Draco tossed his quill into the inkwell, ink splashing onto his cuff. "My father is still on the Board of Governors; he was just…"

Nott sat on the edge of the table, tapping his fingertips twice on the wood.

"Dumbledore has been reinstated, the dismissal order Lucius brought is void, Hagrid has been cleared of his old case, Ginny Weasley is alive, and the remains of the diary are in the Headmasters Office. Mr. Malfoy will be remembered by many tonight."

Zabini closed the letter in his hand and softly added a final blow: "As a loser."

Draco turned to glare at him. Zabini raised his hand to signal he would shut up, but the look in his eyes was clear enough.

The Common Room outside the dorm was still noisy.

After the news of the Chamber of Secrets closing spread, Slytherin was quiet at first, followed by hushed arguments. Flint and his group of older students went silent overnight, Pucey walked around the younger students, no one shouted about the Heir of Slytherin anymore, and no one mentioned cleansing.

Because everyone had heard the new version.

Tom Riddle, the black diary, the Basilisk, Ginny Weasley, Lucius Malfoy.

Every word was dirty enough.

"Has news come out of the Headmasters Office?" Allen asked.

Zabini pushed the letter over. "My mother wrote it. Some on the Board of Governors changed their tune overnight, claiming that dismissing Dumbledore was a temporary safety measure and had nothing to do with the Malfoy Family's private collection. It sounds ridiculous, but they are distancing themselves."

Draco's expression darkened further. "What right do they have to distance themselves?"

Nott glanced at him. "Because they are afraid of being dragged down with him."

Draco grabbed the silver buckle on the table, then put it down. He wanted to retort, but his father's name was weighing down the entire incident. The conflict at Flourish and Blotts, the old book bucket of the Weasley Family, the black diary, the silver-green M remaining on the back cover. Each piece could be explained as a misunderstanding, but together they became a rope.

Allen reached out and took the letter, read it, and tossed it back on the table. "Lucius will pay."

Zabini picked up on the word: "Pay?"

"A seat on the Board of Governors, donations, public support for school safety reforms, maybe send a batch of new textbooks." Allen spoke slowly. "He won't go to Azkaban; the evidence ends with the remains of the diary. Dumbledore won't back a pure-blood family into a corner either."

Draco gritted his teeth: "So he almost killed a girl, and in the end, it's just about money?"

"The Ministry of Magic will call it a regret," Nott said.

Pansy sat on the edge of the bed, having just washed her face, her eyes still red. "This is even more disgusting than Flint."

Crabbe poked his head in from outside the door: "Flint is still in detention."

Goyle added: "He didn't eat meat for breakfast."

Draco turned his head: "Get out."

Both heads retracted simultaneously, and Crabbe's low grumbling came from outside: "I was just stating facts."

Zabini leaned on the table and laughed, then stopped. "The Weasley Family won't let Mr. Malfoy off."

"Whether the Weasley Family lets it go or not has limited significance," Allen turned a page of the book, "The key is Dumbledore."

Draco stared at him. "What does Dumbledore want?"

"To make Lucius take a step back, to make the Board of Governors shut up, to restore order to Hogwarts." Allen paused, "And conveniently confirm who the Silver Light is."

The room went silent for half a second.

Pansy reacted first, lowering her voice: "You have to go to Snape's office at nine."

"Yeah."

Draco stood up immediately. "You're just saying 'yeah'? He will tear you apart to investigate. He looked at your shoes last night; he will definitely investigate more thoroughly today."

"Check the shoes, check the wand, check the memory, check how long I slept." Allen closed the book, "That's fine."

Nott's fingertips stopped on the table. "Legilimency?"

"It will come."

Zabini looked at Allen's face. "Can you hold up now?"

Allen didn't answer. He was exhausted; his body felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton, and he didn't even want to move his fingers. The spatial locking in the Chamber of Secrets, the diary fragments, the memory overwriting, the trace shifting—all were extracting a toll on his body. If it were an ordinary second-year student, they would have been in the Hospital Wing long ago.

But the Hospital Wing was Dumbledore's territory.

Allen tucked the knut under his pillow into his sleeve. "Before nine, don't let anyone search my bed."

Draco paced back and forth irritably. "You always say don't let others do this, don't let others touch that, but what about yourself? You almost died down there last night."

Pansy looked up immediately. "What do you mean 'almost'?"

Draco shut his mouth.

Allen looked at Draco. "The Basilisk is dead, the diary is destroyed, Ginny is alive, and Harry will still be treated as a hero. The result is sufficient."

"Did you count yourself into the result?" Draco suppressed his anger, "You tampered with Harry's memory, tampered with Ginny's memory, deceived Snape, deceived Dumbledore, and you still expect everyone to only look at the Silver Light?"

Allen leaned back against the pillow. "They can only see the Silver Light."

Nott said softly: "And Fawkes."

This sentence made Draco stop.

Fawkes was the biggest variable. A Phoenix is not affected by ordinary memory magic and cannot be threatened by students. It had seen everything in the Chamber of Secrets last night and even actively cleaned up the remnants. If it conveyed more images to Dumbledore, all of Allen's arrangements would be exposed.

Allen closed his eyes. "Fawkes chose silence."

Pansy gripped the bedsheet. "Why would a Phoenix help you?"

"I saved people, destroyed the diary, and didn't hurt Harry," Allen said. "The Phoenix approved of the result."

Zabini nodded slowly. "Or it could just be observing for now."

Allen opened his eyes. "So at nine, we must ensure Snape still doesn't get any evidence."

Footsteps came from outside the door, followed by the panicked discussion of the younger students.

"Harry Potter is here."

Draco's expression sank. "What is he doing coming to Slytherin?"

An argument quickly broke out at the entrance of the Common Room. Goyle blocked the entrance, Crabbe stood next to him, like two walls. Harry's voice came from outside, carrying the irritability of not having slept: "I'm looking for Allen."

Draco rushed out of the dorm, Allen was a beat slower, and Nott followed.

Harry stood outside the entrance, Ron beside him, with abrasions on his face. The Slytherin students formed a circle, and no one gave way. Pansy stepped in front of Allen, then stepped back after seeing Harry.

Draco said coldly: "Potter, you've come to the wrong door."

Harry stared at Allen. "I have something to ask him."

Draco blocked his line of sight. "If you want to thank the hero list, please go to the Great Hall."

Ron immediately exploded: "Malfoy, your father almost killed my sister!"

A low gasp went through the Common Room. Several older students' expressions changed; no one dared to respond to that.

Draco's face went pale for a moment, then he stiffly raised his head. "Bring evidence when you speak, Weasley."

Harry reached into his robe and took out the remains of the diary wrapped in cloth. The half silver-green M was exposed at the edge, and the entire Common Room went quiet.

Draco stared at the remains, his throat moving.

Harry looked past Draco at Allen. "I remember the Silver Light, and I remember someone telling me not to tell Dumbledore everything. I can't remember the name, but I get a headache when I see you."

The gazes of the Slytherin students all pressed onto Allen.

Nott's fingertips pressed against his cuffs. Zabini stood further out, blocking a few older students. Pansy's expression was ugly, but she didn't retreat.

Allen walked out from behind the crowd, his voice sleepy: "You were bitten by the Basilisk; it's normal to have a headache."

Harry gripped the remains tighter. "You know that's not what I'm talking about."

"Then go find Madam Pomfrey."

Ron couldn't help but interject: "How are you even more difficult to talk to than Snape?"

Allen looked at him. "Is your sister awake?"

Ron froze.

Harry also paused.

"If she's awake, go keep her company," Allen said. "She needs answers more than you do."

The fire in Harry's eyes was suppressed by this sentence. He looked down at the diary remains, then at Allen, as if trying to pry a name from that sleepy face.

Draco stepped forward half a step. "Are you done asking?"

Harry wrapped the remains back up. "Not yet."

Allen turned and walked toward the dorm. "Then wait until you've thought it through before asking."

"Allen."

Harry called him, his voice lower than before.

"Was it you last year too?"

The breathing in the Common Room lightened.

Allen stopped at the door, without even turning his head. "You asked that last year."

Harry was stunned.

"The answer is the same." Allen pushed the door open and went in. "Staying alive is more important than remembering."

The door closed, shutting out the discussion outside.

Draco stood inside the door, his expression so bad it was turning blue. "You think nine o'clock isn't troublesome enough?"

Allen walked to the bed and collapsed directly. "The trouble is already here."

Nott closed the door bolt. "Potter will pursue this."

"Let him pursue it," Allen buried his face in the pillow. "He chases the Silver Light, Snape chases the blankness, Dumbledore chases the door. Everyone has something to do, so no one can be idle enough to stare at one place."

Zabini looked at the Black Lake outside the window. "Lucius will have something to do too."

Draco asked in a low voice: "Will my father come to find me?"

Allen was silent for two seconds.

"Yes."

Draco's shoulders tensed up.

"He will tell you that the Malfoy Family has never made a mistake, and that the fault lies in the chaos of the Weasley Family, Dumbledore's incompetence, and the loss of control over Dark Arts artifacts." Allen closed his eyes. "You listen, nod, and don't make excuses for him."

Draco sat back in the chair, his palm pressed against the edge of the table.

Nott looked at him for a moment, his voice lowering: "This is the crack."

Allen didn't respond.

Outside the window, the lake water slapped against the stone wall, and the knut in his sleeve pressed against the entrance to the Portable Space. Inside the Portable Space, the Void hovered outside the stone pipe, its silver eyes staring at the remaining pages. The black ink inside the sealing ring was quiet, like a scorched stain.

Allen left only one sentence in his half-asleep state.

"Wake me at nine."